


Carnival Prize

by Rainne



Series: Thank-You Fics [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dragons, Fluff, Magical Realism, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3946789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainne/pseuds/Rainne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This particular midway booth boasts a prize Darcy simply has to have.  It's probably rigged, but that's okay... it's hard to rig a game so a supersoldier can't win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnival Prize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [basta_wwoqd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/basta_wwoqd/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the edge of the map](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393156) by [Merideath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath). 



> This is the first of my Thank-You Fics, so called because they have been written as thank-you gifts to people who have donated to my mother's cancer fund, which is helping to pay for my mother's chemotherapy treatments and eventual surgeries.
> 
> If you would like to know more about my writing and my gift fics and how to get a Thank-You Fic of your own, please visit [this Tumblr post](http://rainnecassidy.tumblr.com/post/118466323344/please-help). Thanks.

"What is she doing?"

"I have no idea."

"Should we go find out?"

"We should totally go find out."

They make their way through the crowd on the Coney Island boardwalk, blond head and brown both hovering slightly above most of the heads around them, and they appear like magically summoned beings on either side of the tiny brunette standing in front of the Pitch-Til-U-Win booth.  "Heya, Dollface," Bucky Barnes says smoothly, and Darcy Lewis jumps slightly, the softball falling out of her hand.  "You look serious."

"I _am_ serious," Darcy replies. She takes the softball from Steve Rogers with a soft word of thanks, then turns back to Bucky.  She points. "Do you see that dragon?"

Bucky blinks. "I do, actually."  And he does.  There, at the top of the booth, in a tiny cage, is an even tinier dragon.  It's not even a full dragon, really, if Bucky knows his dragons: it actually looks like a rock dragonet, which usually don't get any larger than the average housecat but can live for decades.  "Are you pitchin' for that thing, Doll?"

The kid manning the booth snorts. "She thinks she is," he says. "But she can't hit the target."

Steve's eyes narrow, and Bucky's head tilts back just a bit.  "What's she gotta hit to win it?" he asks, taking in the miserable expression on the tiny creature's face.  The fuck is a live dragonet doing as a prize in one of these booths anyway?  They're not supposed to even _have_ live prizes, not after that time with the maneating goldfish in 1927.

"You gotta knock 'em all down," the kid says, clearly scenting a challenge on the air.  "Five dollars gets you three pitches."

Bucky and Steve exchange a glance.  Three pitches, but there are four stacks of milk bottles.  Uh- _huh._

Darcy tries again, and she's throwing at an angle just like she's supposed to, but the bottles aren't falling.  If Bucky guesses right, some of the bottom bottles are probably full of sand.  The kid pulls down a medium-sized prize, setting it alongside several other medium-sized prizes, and Darcy gets the determined expression on her face that says she's about to try again.

Bucky says, "She can't exchange all these for the dragonet?"

"Nope," the kid replies. "Boss says that one's not exchangeable. And I'm on camera."

"Uh-huh," Bucky says.  He glances over at Steve again.  "You got any more like it?  Anything else _alive_?"

"No, man," the kid says, suddenly looking a little nervous. "That's the only one."

"Uh- _huh,_ " Bucky replies.

Steve steps forward, gently shifting Darcy out of the way, and he draws a five dollar bill out of his pocket.  "Knock them all down and I get the dragonet, right?" he asks, the first words he's spoken since arriving at the booth.

The kid stammers, clearly recognizing that voice.  "Uh. Yeah.  Yes.  Sir."

"Anything special I need to know?  Like, I gotta knock 'em all down with one ball, or anything like that?"

"No, sir," the kid manages.  "Just... just as long as you get them all."

Steve nods.  He takes the balls from the kid.  He checks the angles, studies the bottles, and tosses two of the balls over to Bucky.  "Here you go, Buck," he says. "Hold those for me."  Then he shifts and turns and pitches.

The ball slices cleanly through the four stacks of bottles, right at the base, and shatters every one of them.  Bucky was right: four of the twelve base-row bottles were full of sand, which spills out all over the boards of the booth.  The kid immediately starts stammering while Bucky puts the other two unused softballs back on the boards, right in the middle of all the sand.

Steve, meanwhile, is counting up medium-sized prizes.  "By my count," he says, "You took my friend here for sixty-five dollars.  Now, I'm willing to concede that fifteen of that sixty-five was fairly gotten, but I think fifty of that sixty-five is probably worth me not calling Boardwalk security, don't you?"

"Yeah, man," the kid says, scrambling to return fifty dollars to Darcy.  "Anything you say, man."

"And the dragonet," Bucky points out.  "Gently.  It looks scared."

The kid brings the cage down like that dragonet is made out of diamonds and spun sugar, and passes it over to Darcy, who takes it and immediately begins cooing at it.  Bucky wraps an arm around her shoulders, steering her away from the booth.  Steve waits just a beat longer and then he leans over the counter into the booth, right up in the kid's space. "Do not think for a second that I won't be back to this booth, and that I won't know your face when I get here," he says softly.  "I don't like bullies, and I don't like cheats.  Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," the kid whimpers. 

"Good." Steve pulls back and stands up straight.  "Have a nice day."  He turns and takes several quick steps to catch up with Bucky and Darcy, who are moving toward the Nathan's Hot Dogs stand.  "Well," he says to Darcy, "what do you think you'll call it?"

"Farley," Darcy says immediately.  "I always wanted a dragon called Farley."

"That's a great name for a dragon," Bucky replies.  "He looks hungry, though.  Rock dragonets can eat hot dogs, right?"

"Oh, sure," says the guy behind the hot dog counter.  "My grandma had one of those things, it ate everything she gave it.  Like a damn dog.  Thing got so fat the vet made 'em put it on a special diet."  He bends over, fishing a discarded wiener out of a nearby bucket of water and putting it in a french fry container.  "Here, on the house.  It's fresh and everything, just got dropped on the ground."

"Thanks!" Darcy exclaims, taking the weiner and moving to a nearby picnic table.  Bucky and Steve are left to order the food - hot dogs and french fries for everyone, plus sodas to drink and a little cup of water for the dragon - before joining her.

She's broken the wiener up into little pieces and is hand-feeding them to Farley through the bars of the cage.  She waits until he chirps for more before giving him another one, and after several tiny bites, she opens the cage door and feeds him that way.

By the halfway point of the wiener, the dragonet is out of the cage and sprawled on the table, greedily taking bites from right between Darcy's fingers; by the time it's gone, his little belly is hugely round and he looks like he's ready to fall asleep right there on the table.  He gives a meaty little belch, accompanied by a tiny puff of smoke, and Darcy picks him up gingerly and places him on her shoulder.  He immediately wraps his tail around her neck, curls up, and goes to sleep.  Darcy makes a noise that is halfway between agony and ecstasy.

"Aw," Steve says, grinning.  "That's cute."

"That thing shits in my shoes, we're gonna have a problem," Bucky adds, popping the last bite of his hot dog into his mouth.


End file.
